


seen more places than i can name (and over time they all start to look the same)

by stardustgirl



Series: Rebels Oneshots [95]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (albeit slightly reluctantly), (and way too much of it), (its not graphic tho dw), Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Western, American History, Blind Kanan Jarrus, Blood and Injury, California, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Ezra Bridger Gets a Hug, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Field Surgery, Gold Rush, Gun Violence, Horses, Hurt Ezra Bridger, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Oregon Trail, Parental Kanan Jarrus, Phoenix Nest Discord, Phoenix Nest May Fourth Exchange, Phoenix Nest May Fourth Exchange 2020, Pony Express, Shapeshifting, Slang, Werewolf Reveal, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, field medicine, i did way too much research for this ahh, not complete angst for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: Masonic, California, 1861.Ezra's been on his own ever since his family died in Nebraska.  Now, at long last, he's reached California, and he's found an uncertain guardian in the Pony Express stationkeeper Kanan Jarrus.  Life isn't easy, but it's finally okay, as long as he can keep his secret safe from Kanan.  But when a horse shows up at their station without its rider, everything he's built is threatened and Ezra's forced into a race for his very life.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus
Series: Rebels Oneshots [95]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1150541
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54
Collections: Phoenix Nest May the Fourth Exchange 2020





	seen more places than i can name (and over time they all start to look the same)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WolfMarauder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfMarauder/gifts).



> There's a lot of slang, and though some of it can be understood by context I'm unsure of what can and can't, so see the ending note for a list.
> 
> Prompt fill for "Hugs" for Found Family Bingo, too.
> 
> TW: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gun Violence Toward Child, Blood, Implied/Referenced Field Surgery, Referenced Death of Parents, Attempted Child Murder

“Why the _kriff_ would you have—”

Ezra lets out a yell as the man pours the alcohol onto his leg, trying to jerk away until his hand clamps down on Ezra’s calf, keeping him on the steps of the saloon’s front porch. “Stay _still_ and it won’t hurt as much.”

Ezra waits until the man’s grip shifts before jerking his leg suddenly, meaning to use the surprise to get up.

He succeeds in shaking the man’s grasp, sure. But he also succeeds in causing excruciating pain to himself.

Ezra yelps again, clutching at his leg as the man sighs. “See why I didn’t want you moving?” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue this time as the man shakes his head, returning to the wound. He’d rather have it treated than risk it getting infected in the next few weeks. Ezra watches for a moment before turning to glance back toward the saloon doors.

“Why’d they kick _you_ out?”

He only grunts, pouring a bit more alcohol on the wound. Ezra can’t tell if the timing is coincidental or not. He winces and tries again.

“Did you start a fuss?”

“Kid, I’d recommend you stop shooting your mouth off. You’re gonna get yourself treed if you keep going on like that.” He glowers but falls quiet, hissing as the man rubs at the wound a final time before standing up. “You got somewhere to go?” Ezra takes the silence pulling himself to his feet offers, hesitating. He could answer, could tell the guy that no, he did not. That he hadn’t had anywhere to go since Nebraska. Or he could lie, tell him that yeah he does, that he has a family somewhere here.

Before he can answer, though, the man does it for him. “You a guttersnipe?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “No. I’m- I’m not, my family’s just—”

The man laughs. “Kid, I know a tenderfoot when I see one.”

“You’re just roostered, then.” He feels himself tensing up slightly, just enough that he knows he can bolt if he needs to. The man doesn’t move for a long moment, only staring at him.

“Yeah?” he says finally. “And which one of us got themselves hit in the leg by a six shooter?”

Ezra sighs furiously, turning to storm off. He can’t heal it for almost a month, he knows. He puts weight on his injured leg for less than a second and already collapses against the post of the porch, crying out. There’s a hand helping him up and he jerks away, only succeeding in falling forward more until he’s on his hands and knees in the main thoroughfare.

_Should’ve never kept going after they got her and the rest of them. Then you wouldn’t be in this kriffin’ town in the first place!_

A hand on his arm again offers to help him up, and this time, he lets it. What other choice does he have at this point?

The man smiles grimly. “I’m Kanan. You can crash at my place if you need to; I got space. And welcome to California, kid.”

* * *

“They found gold in Aurora.”

Ezra glances up at that. “Yeah?”

He’s been living with Kanan for a few weeks now, keeping close track of the days so he’ll know when to leave. But aside from that, he finds that he actually _likes_ living with someone else. It’s not as lonely, and it’s easier to survive. Less scavenging.

Kanan nods. The former rider is staring blankly at the land ahead of them, gaze unfocused. Kanan’s remuda quietly grazes nearby, the occasional snort rising from one of them. All in all, it’s peaceful.

_“They found gold in Aurora.”_

“You gonna take French leave, then?”

Kanan shrugs, taking a long draught from the flask Ezra’s begun to associate with him before answering. “Dunno. Let it play out, I guess. It’s getting township now, though.”

_Maybe he wants_ you _to shin out._

That would make sense, he realizes. This is Kanan’s territory. _His_ spot. Not Ezra’s.

_He’s grown irritated with you, at long last. He’s realized you’re nothing more than a hard case, a panhandler._

_He knows_ what _you are._

Ezra swallows hard at that. It _is_ getting close to the new moon, now that he thinks of it. Maybe...maybe he can take a trip into town that night or something. Yeah. Or go hide out in the woods, far enough off the horses won’t spook.

He’ll find a way. He still has three days.

So either he’ll leave, or Kanan’ll kick him out. He’s just not sure which’ll happen first.

He’ll wait it out, he decides.

* * *

The sounds of hoofbeats approaching pulls Ezra’s attention away from the saddle he’s cleaning. He rises, leaning back to crack open the door. “Hey Kanan? There’s a rider, I think.”

“Coming,” a voice calls. Ezra starts for the pen, grabbing Phantom’s reins from where she’s tied to the fence. The horse squeals, tossing her head eagerly as he leads her toward the horse.

The horse without a rider.

“Kanan!”

“ _Coming!_ ”

Ezra mutters a string of curses under his breath as he reaches the horse, grabbing the pinto’s reins. “Kanan, hurry!”

The door finally swings open again, Kanan’s hurried footsteps approaching. “Why hasn’t he left yet?”

“There’s no rider. I think he got—“

“—busted off. Yeah. Here, kid. Get the _mochilla_ and get it on Phantom. I’ll get this one tied.”

Ezra nods, grabbing the mail bag off of the pinto as Kanan walks the horse over to tie it to the fence. Still, there’s no sign of the rider.

“Who’s carrying this?”

Kanan laughs. “Take a guess, kid.”

Ezra hesitates for half a second while securing the _mochilla_ before refocusing his efforts on it once more. “You’re mostly blind.”

“Yep.”

“And the other rider’s not here….”

“Yes again.”

It hits him like a Phantom’s hoof to his chest only a couple of weeks ago. “Oh. But I’m not certified—”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t do it, and the other guy clearly can’t. You’re the only other option.”

“But I—”

“Ezra, _go_ before that horse boils over.” He nods, suddenly remembering the uncertain fate of the pinto’s rider, before double checking Phantom’s cinch and mounting up. He barely has time to tighten his hold on the reins before the mare’s snorting, shooting forward into the desert like an arrow.

He barely resists from screaming, instead leaning low over the mare’s neck and trying to stay upright without the stirrups.

By the time Phantom finally starts slowing, Ezra’s stomach is in knots. Knots that only tighten when he realizes that this is a relay station, not a home station. He won’t be stopping here beyond a couple of minutes.

Phantom slows to a prancing trot in the front yard and he dismounts shakily, passing her reins to the stationkeeper who’s already passing him his next horse. The tall chestnut snorts loudly, tossing his head as Ezra grabs the _mochilla_ and tightens the cinch. He needs a leg up from the stationkeeper to mount this time, and then he’s off again.

Some of the other stationkeepers try to make conversation with him at his stops, but most quickly catch on how fatigued he is and give up. He’s silently grateful for it.

He’s lost track of how many horses he’s hopped on and off by the time he practically collapses while dismounting and they usher him away from the next one, murmuring, “You’re good for tonight, kid, you’re good.” Someone leads him to a table where he gulps down some sort of stew that smells of potatoes to an absurd degree before he’s led to a bed that he collapses into. He’s out in seconds.

* * *

Ezra wakes in the middle of the night, and he very quickly realizes that _something is wrong._

He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he smells it. There. Food.

He doesn’t realize how hungry he is until he’s trying to get out of bed and gets caught up in the blanket.

Growling, he rips at it, tearing the fabric before starting for the door. He reaches to open it.

He can’t.

_What?_

He’s shorter, too, he realizes. He tries to open it again, only to collapse. His head hits the floor with a _thunk_ and everything clicks into place. Why he can’t open the door, why he’s suddenly so hungry, why he’s able to smell so well.

He’s changed.

He groans in frustration, but it quickly becomes a low growl and he clamps his jaw shut. Kriff. If the stationkeeper’s heard him….

There’s a knock on the door. _Speak of the devil—_

“Kid, you okay in there?”

Ezra freezes, chest pounding.

_Answer him!_

He tries to. He really, really tries.

But instead, it comes out as more of a bark.

The door opens and the stationkeeper stands in the threshold, glancing around the room until he catches sight of Ezra just a foot or so in front of him.

He shoots a glance to the cot in the corner, his clothes and the blanket shredded and tangled on the floor next to it. And then he looks back at Ezra, eyes widening in recognition.

“ _You’re a—_ ”

Ezra bolts.

He trips over his own feet—paws?—as he scrambles past the man and through the small station, but he makes it to the door ahead of the stationkeeper behind him.

Only, he can’t open the door.

Growling in frustration, Ezra backs up and slams his shoulder against the wood, but it still won’t budge. Kriff. He needs to get out, _now._

Outside, one of the horses whinnies loudly, announcing his presence to the whole _state._ This trip just keeps getting better and better.

The man is behind him now, he knows. Something tells Ezra to bite him, but he shakes the instinct off. He doesn’t want to cement his future as _this._

“Easy,” the man says, voice low. He reaches for an item on the table next to him as he creeps forward, and Ezra’s hackles raise as a low growl forms. It’s a gun.

_You got shot in a saloon a month ago and now you’re gonna get shot by a kriffing_ mailman!

He glances around the room, trying to find another escape as the man removes the safety on the gun.

A window.

Ezra doesn’t wait. He bolts again, jumping onto a chair and from there the table before hitting the window with his shoulder.

Only, it doesn’t budge.

He stumbles back, shaking his head to clear it of the haze before he hears the man moving again. He turns, growling reflexively as the man levels the gun at his head.

“Please, I just wanna leave,” he tries to say. The barks that result do nothing to help his case.

The man brings his finger to the trigger, and Ezra gets an idea.

He moves back, standing in front of the window again, and tries not to bolt as the man pulls the trigger.

The shot hits him in the side and he yelps, falling.

Falling out the window.

_It worked!_

He doesn’t have time to celebrate, though. The door to the station is already creaking open, the stationkeeper swearing as he sights Ezra rising unsteadily. Ezra doesn’t bother shooting him another look before turning and bolting as fast as he can with his side thudding in tune with his heart. The blood staining his dark pelt drips onto the dirt as he sprints into the forest, ignorant of the horses squealing in fear behind him. He just...needs to get...home….

When did he start thinking of Kanan’s station as home?

He slows at that, realizing the full depth of the situation. He _can’t_ just “go home.” Kanan will shoot him, too. He has to wait till he’s not a wolf.

Which could be a full 24 hours, if the last time he changed is any indication.

He forces himself to return to his earlier pace again, eventually wheezing as the pain catches up with him. It’s less than it was when he first ran off, sure, but it still _hurts._ And he can’t heal while he’s dragged out.

Then again, he can’t heal if he takes a blinder, either.

Ezra keeps going.

It’s only a few hours after dawn when he’s forced to stop, breath coming in heavy gasps. His legs tremble, pain from his paws and his side lancing out into the rest of him as he sways on his feet.

And then he collapses, and everything is mercifully dark.

* * *

Ezra wakes up at some point, blurred shapes becoming sharper instantly. _The_ only _benefit of this curse, I guess._

He sits up, inhaling shakily until he realizes the pain in his side is gone. Only the last vestiges of exhaustion remain.

He glances around. He’s...inside. On a bed. With a sidetable containing the bullet in question, a dark stain that looks and smells suspiciously like blood surrounding it.

And he’s still in his wolf form.

_Oh kriff._

He hops off the bed, gasping as an echo of the pain from the night before hits him. He shakes it off just as quickly, glancing around the room. Windows, and a door. Great.

He retreats under the bed, curling up with his tail tucked into himself. He can see the door from here, and he should have enough strength now to bolt if he needs to. All without whoever’s here catching sight of him.

The door creaks open, and Ezra inhales sharply, trying to find out as much he can about his captor just by smell. Only, there’s an issue….

The one walking toward him is walking on _four paws._

A low rumble that he’s sure is meant to be reassuring sounds and, against his better judgement, Ezra crawls out from under the bed. A dark-furred wolf, faded eyes marred by an uneven scar that almost looks like _claw marks,_ stands in the doorway.

He inhales again, sure that _something_ about the wolf is familiar.

And then it hits him.

“Kanan?” he tries to ask, but the question comes out in a bark like usual. The other wolf’s tail wags slowly.

_Oh kriff wait did you bite Kanan what if you bit him what if—_

His whirling thoughts come to a halt as the other wolf walks toward him, sniffing his shoulder before rumbling quietly again. Ezra is still too stunned to reply, not that he would know _how_ to reply.

_How long are you like this?_ he wants to ask. He wants to know if Kanan’s stuck the way he is thanks to a bite, stuck as long as the moon is new. But he can’t. Not until they’re both human again.

Grumbling in frustration, Ezra returns to his spot under the bed, curling tightly into himself. Kanan shouldn’t have to take care of him. If Ezra was just a _decent_ person, with common sense enough _not_ to go looking for the pack of wolves that had attacked his sister….

His thoughts fade away as Kanan crawls under the bed beside him, cautiously laying his tail over Ezra’s back. He stiffens at first, but eventually relaxes. The gesture feels like Kanan placing a hand on his shoulder whenever he confesses how worried he is about the encroaching war. It feels nice, almost.

Eventually, Ezra drifts off into the deepest sleep he’s had in ages.

* * *

When he wakes up, his leg is cramping.

Ezra blinks blearily, rubbing a hand over his eyes before stopping in shock. _Hand._

He’s human again.

He laughs in weak relief, sitting up until he smacks his head on the underside of the bed. Swearing, he slides out from under the bed, gripping the leg that’s cramping from his awkward position as he glances around the room. It’s the same as it was the last time he was awake, with the addition of a pile of clothes on the bed and the fact that Kanan is nowhere to be found. He hurriedly pulls the clothes on, noticing as he does so that the bullet still sits on the sidetable, an ominous reminder of Ezra’s abandonment of the home station.

_The mail._

He limps to the door, leg still cramping even as he opens it and rushes into the main room. Kanan— _human_ Kanan—is drinking his coffee slowly while weaving three leather cords together into a tight braid, clearly relying more on touch than sight to do so. A plate of questionably-prepared bacon sits at Ezra’s usual spot, and his stomach growls at the sight. Ezra approaches the man hesitantly.

“...Kanan?”

“Breakfast is there, kid.” Kanan nods to the bacon. Ezra doesn’t give it so much as a passing glance despite his hunger.

“About last night—”

Kanan sets the cords down, slipping them into a crack in the table so they don’t come undone.

_You’re gonna be in so much trouble oh kriff oh—_

“I was out with the horses yesterday morning, and they seemed really agitated. I walked out to the forest, and I found you.”

“You found a wolf.”

Kanan huffs a laugh. “No, kiddo, I found _you._ I’d know you anywhere, wolf or not.” Ezra swallows hard. “But you wouldn’t respond, so I brought you back to the station. Figured you’d react better to seeing a wolf than a human. And don’t worry, no riders came through while you were changed. Your healing got most of it out and healed most of the area, but I got the bullet out the rest of the way. Where’d you get it?”

He swallows hard, finally walking to his spot at the table and sitting. “At...at the station I left,” he admits quietly.

“You changed _at_ the station?”

“Yeah.”

The man lets out a laugh. “You’re game, kid. You’re still between hay and grass yourself and you made it all the way back here alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Changed? With that bullet in you?”

“Yeah.”

Kanan shakes his head in disbelief, still laughing. “How long have you been...affected?”

Ezra wraps his arms around himself, suddenly quiet. “It...it happened in Nebraska. When...when we were moving. There were some wolves, and- and I hid after I got bit so...so I survived.”

Kanan’s laughter stops. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Shaking his head, Ezra says, “Don’t be. But...did I bite you yesterday?”

“No. You were out like a light.”

“Oh.”

They’re silent, and Kanan picks up the cords again as Ezra finally turns his attention to his bacon. He chokes it down, shuddering at Kanan’s cooking before reluctantly picking up another one. He risks a glance at the stationkeeper while he’s chewing his third piece.

“Hey Kanan? Couldn’t you just...just heal your sight?”

“No. After I was...injured, I changed to heal it a bit. Wound was too deep, though.” He taps the skin at the corner of one of his eyes, smiling grimly. “Couldn’t heal it all the way. Mine’s hereditary,” he adds, and Ezra instinctively knows he’s talking about his lycanthropy. “Didn’t develop till I was around your age, but if you inherit it you can change at will. Because I was able to change so fast, it healed to where it lets me see better—not great, but enough to where I can run this station without getting sued. And cook your breakfast without burning the house down,” he adds, nodding to the bacon.

Ezra nods, swallowing hard. “Did...could you tell I was one?” There’s a long pause before Kanan answers.

“No.”

“Do you...do you _care_ that I’m one? Because I can leave if- if you need me to, if you think I’d risk them finding out that you’re one because I can’t control when I change and I’m kinda reckless and I dunno the first thing about keeping it hidden—”

“No, kid. You can stay. You honestly think I’d make you leave? And besides, people like us need to stick together.”

Swallowing hard, Ezra rises and walks to Kanan. The man must guess his intentions because he rises, too, opening his arms. “Thank you,” Ezra breathes as he accepts the embrace.

“I would never make you leave,” Kanan whispers in return, and Ezra’s instincts don’t warn him of a lie this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy May the Fourth, Wolf! You requested a historical or magic AU so I decided to go with both, and I hope you liked it!
> 
> Slang Meanings  
> Treed: get yourself in a difficult situation  
> Guttersnipe: outcast child, particularly on the streets  
> Tenderfoot: newcomer  
> Roostered: very drunk  
> Six Shooter: gun  
> Remuda: herd of trained horses  
> French Leave: desert, leave abruptly  
> Shin Out: run away, run off  
> Hard Case: worthless person, difficult person  
> Panhandler: beggar  
> Busted Off: bucked off, thrown from a horse  
> Boils Over: when an excited horse starts bucking  
> Dragged Out: exhausted  
> Take a Blinder: die/dead  
> Game: tough  
> Between Hay and Grass: half-grown, adolescent, a kid


End file.
